


Private Lines Drawn in Paper Skies

by TehChouHenshins (TehChou)



Category: Kamen Rider Ryuki | Masked Rider Ryuki
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehChou/pseuds/TehChouHenshins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Ryuki's end, so spoilers. Kitaoka makes a gesture of appreciation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Lines Drawn in Paper Skies

"Would you you stop hovering and sit down, Gorou-chan, you're making me nervous," Kitaoka says gesturing at the seat across from him. Gorou's brow furrows, towel draped over his arm, and wine bottle open in hand. He hesitates, and Kitaoka makes an insistent gesture, raising his brows expectantly and eventually, he gives in and sits. "That's better," Kitaoka says, reaching over the table for the wine and pouring him a glass. Gorou's lips twitch upwards, but the look he gives him is quizzical.

"A toast," says Kitaoka, holding up the glass. "To life."

"To life," he mutters obediently, clinking their glasses together, still eying him sidelong and Kitaoka takes a sip, setting the glass back on the table to run a hand through his hair and sigh.

There's a little patch of grey hiding somewhere beneath the brown now. He'd found it yesterday and spent the rest of the day staring at his reflection in the bathroom. Apparently, the noises he made at himself were so distressed that Gorou went out and bought the perfect, matching dye.

The end result was more than worth it, but Gorou's fingers combing through his hair were divine.

His hand slips into his pocket, while he leans over, the other wafting in the air above his current meal, mackerel grilled in soy and spring onions, the skin dark and crispy and a small plate of delicate salad beside.

Gorou himself hasn't changed much since they first met, a little more wrinkled about the eyes, and even more about his mouth from where he smiled wider and wider as the years progressed, but still undeniably Gorou-chan.

Hidden away, Kitaoka's fingers run over the hard lines of the box and he strokes it, slicing off a piece of his meal, fork gliding through it like butter. Gorou watches him, finger slipping over the stem of the wine glass.

He takes a moment to savor it, that first bite, tilting his head back, the sun streaming in through the window and the succulent fish melting on his tongue.

"Ne, Gorou-chan," he says, escaping with a sigh of contentment. "How many years has it been now?"

"Fifteen," his soft voice floats to him, after a quiet moment of Gorou discerning the particular subject at hand.

"And with that _other time_ , it makes sixteen," Kitaoka finishes, opening his eyes and looking back down, turning the box round in his fingers, end over end over end. Gorou nods his head once, short. He doesn't like it when Kitaoka brings that time up. Truth be told Kitaoka has no particular fondness for it; reminders of the immediacy of mortality are, he believes, universally unpleasant, but, well. It's hard to fault the sobriety and the clear picture of its own hubris it brought down on them.

It is though, the time that never existed, half-remembered in bits and pieces and while he doesn't feel guilty for bringing it up, it is a bit of an awkward hiccup in their discussion. Their trend is to keep the subject quiet, silent and unheard and away from any kind of company

Except when Shinji visited to pester them about it, but Kitaoka refused to let those painfully awkward little chats count. Towards anything. Ever.

"I figure," Kitaoka says, leaning over to set the box in front of Gorou-chan with firm gesture. "It's about time for this, and then some. If you agree, of course."

Gorou frowns down at the box, one hand untangling from the fold at his lap to pick it up. He studies it for a moment, each side, like he can tell what it is through the thick black wrapping. His lips are parted, just barely on a question. Kitaoko grins and leans back over, opening the box and revealing the glint of the silver band inside.

"Gorou-chan," he says and Gorou looks up from the blank look he's giving the ring, slow enough that Kitaoka can nearly hear his neck creaking as each vertebra realigns. "Will you let me?"

"Sensei," he mutters, eyes wide. Kitaoka rolls his eyes and takes the ring out of its casing, holding it up with thumb and forefinger.

"Sensei, sensei, sensei," he says. "'Darling' is cuter, don't you think?"

"'Darling'," Gorou repeats, muttering as a tiny smile hovers on his lips. He doesn't say anything else, but Kitaoka knows an acquittance when he sees one, especially from his Gorou-chan. He takes Gorou's hand in his, running a thumb over the dry skin, too much time at the sink washing dishes and cleaning floors. It goes easily onto his finger, fitting there like it was never absent.

"You should be putting lotion on these," Kitaoka chides, mock pouting as he fits it in place, sliding a hand over his wrist and rubbing, reveling in the feel of the softer skin beneath his own.

There's sheen to Gorou's eyes when he looks down, rolling the band around his finger with his thumb, their hands overlayed. It's design is nothing overly fancy, pure platinum shaped with a raised ribbon winding over the surface; pleasant, elegant and outrageously expensive, designed by a well known fellow from France. Gorou wouldn't care one wit about the difference, but just seeing it there laying against his tan skin fills Kitaoka with a swell of satisfaction, no greater indulgence.

He slides back into his seat with nonchalance and wraps his fingers around the wine glass.

"You're hands are shaking," Gorou points out, not looking up from his new accessory as Kitaoka sips at his drink.

"Yes, well," Kitaoka says, clearing his throat and cutting off another bite of mackerel.

Kitaoka prided himself on his smooth delivery. His proposal was, to him, perfect, pulled off without a hitch, exactly how he wanted it to go.

But there's no accounting for surprises. Two weeks later, Gorou brought home a thin, unadorned band of steel wrapped in soft white gold and settled it seamlessly into arrangement of the usual place setting. It was so innocuous, so _right_ , and Kitaoka couldn't stop staring at it for a full ten minutes, until Gorou set a dish of warm lobster bisque beside it and startled him out of his revere.

"I--" he said, and Gorou just smiled. When Kitaoka put it on, it fit perfectly.

**Author's Note:**

> So my head canon for this is after Shinji and Ren meet in front of Atori, Shinji winds up landing a job there again, Ren keeps coming back and eventually everyone remembers, but not until after comes in freaking out about how he had a dream that this weird kid that won't leave him alone died, and then shinji lands himself in jail for SHINANIGANS and Kitaoka comes to his rescue, but refuses to talk to him about it, but Shinji knows, _he knows_.


End file.
